


No.4 Caged

by LiGi



Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Whumptober 2020, caged, no 4, witchfinder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiGi/pseuds/LiGi
Summary: Whumptober 2020day 4 - Caged.Different first meeting - A witchfinder has caught Merlin and is bringing him to Cameot for execution. Arthur and his knights do not have the same reactions to a young caged sorcerer.
Relationships: Knights of the Round Table & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053113
Comments: 11
Kudos: 202





	No.4 Caged

**No. 4 – Caged**

Merlin woke with a yelp as a rut in the road made the wagon bounce, his head hitting the bars of the cage. He let out a whimper; he’d hoped the cage had been a bad dream.

He’d been caught by the hunter yesterday, after he’d stupidly used his magic to cut firewood. He should have known better, his mother had always taught him to be more aware of his surroundings and of anybody that might be watching him.

The hunter was taking him to Camelot, the kingdom famed for its hatred of magic and all those who possessed it. The man had laughed that he would be rewarded handsomely by the king for bringing the sorcerer in for execution.

Merlin shivered again, huddling into himself, the bars uncomfortable on his back. The cage bars had a powerful magic of their own, deadening his magic, and supping his strength. He had only been in this cage for one day but already he felt as weak as if he had been caged for a fortnight. The hunter had not given him any food and only the merest trickle of water.

Whistling as he drove the horses forward, the hunter seemed entirely unconcerned that he was driving a young man to his certain death. Eventually he let out a shout of laughter and pointed over the crest of a hill.

“There you are, boy. Your final destination. Death awaits you.” He laughed again.

Merlin craned his neck, ignoring the ache it sent down his shoulders and back. A beautiful city rose above the tree line, white stone turrets reaching into the sky, a large red flag with a golden dragon waving faintly in the wind.

Tears spilled down Merlin’s face, hot and prickly. He brushed them away roughly, pressing his fists into his eyes. It didn’t help the pounding pain in his head.

His hands were chained, ankles strapped down to the floor of the cage. He couldn’t do more than turn his head, resting it against the bars which sent chills down his spine. It was freezing cold, nearly winter and the hunter had taken his jacket and his boots.

He drifted in and out of consciousness until the hunter’s rough voice brought him around again.

“This is Camelot.”

The wagon rolled across the drawbridge into the castle, the horses’ hooves clopping noisily against the cobbled courtyard. Merlin could hear the sounds of swords clashing somewhere nearby, and the bustle of a market. He could hear children laughing.

The smell of fresh bread and fruit made his stomach squeeze painfully. His tongue was dry and heavy in his mouth. He’d give anything for just an apple or a mouthful of water.

The hunter eventually brought the wagon to a stop near an open expanse of grass. A group of men were sparring with swords, some attacking straw dummies, others striking at each other. They came to a halt in their activities when they spotted the wagon and its cage.

A blond man who didn’t look much older than Merlin himself stabbed his sword into the ground and ambled over, his arms folded and a frown on his face. The five other men quickly followed suit.

“And what’s this?” the blond said once he was close enough. He gestured towards the cage with his chin. “You know slavery is banned in this kingdom.”

“This is a sorcerer, sir,” the hunter said, his voice oily and sneering.

“Is my father aware?”

“Your father?”

“The King.”

“Your Highness.” The hunter dropped down from the seat of the wagon, bowing low to the prince, who merely nodded, his lip curled in disgust. He waved a hand and a serving boy ran towards him.

“Tell the king this man wants an audience with him.”

“Yes, my lord.” The servant beckoned for the hunter to follow him and ran off in the direction of the castle.

“Nobody touch him,” the hunter growled towards the men standing behind the prince. “He’s dangerous.” And he followed the servant.

“Dangerous? Doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly.” A man with long dark hair that stuck to the side of his face with sweat wandered closer to the cage, peering up at Merlin. He ran a hand through his hair to push it away from his eyes.

“Gwaine.” A dark skinned man put a hand on the longhaired man’s arm.

“Look at him…” the man implored.

“We’re looking,” said another, also dark haired. He looked deeply disturbed as his dark eyes swept over Merlin, taking in the chains and straps holding him down. Anguish covered his face until Merlin had to look away from him. His own pain was reflected in the man’s face so clearly it made him feel even worse than he already did.

“Sorcerers are evil,” the prince said, he pulled the distressed man away. “He doesn’t need your pity, Lancelot. He’s _evil_.”

“I’ve seen evil, he’s not it,” the man said, forcefully shrugging the prince’s hand off his arm. He trudged a few yards away, his back to them.

Merlin raised his head to follow the man’s departure, tears streaming down his cheeks again. He avoided looking at the other five men still standing beside his cage. They were all staring at him like an animal caught in a trap.

“Lancelot is often right, my lord,” a very quiet deep voice spoke up. It was the tallest, broadest of the men, muscles bulging on his bare arms.

“Not about this. We’ve seen many sorcerers, Percival, they come in all sizes. They almost always want to hurt his majesty.” This was the last man, tall with long curly blond hair. He had a weary expression, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“But he’s just a boy, he looks barely older than _me_!” the dark skinned man piped up.

“Baby Ely,” the longhaired man elbowed the dark man in the ribs, grinning. Then his face sobered as he looked again at Merlin.

Merlin tried not to catch his eye, but there was a warmness about the man that drew Merlin’s gaze. He took another step towards the cage, one hand reaching towards it.

“Don’t touch, Gwaine!” the prince snapped. He marched forwards, slapping the other man’s hand down.

“Calm down, Princess, he won’t bite.”

Merlin poked his tongue out to wet his chapped lips.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he rasped, his voice catching in his dry throat.

The reactions of the men were instantaneous; they clearly hadn’t expected Merlin to speak. The prince sprang backwards, his hands raised, his eyes wide. The tall blond’s hand dropped to his dagger, wrapping instinctively around the hilt as he stepped closer to the prince. The giant and the dark skinned man shared a look, wariness and pity and something Merlin couldn’t place.

The longhaired man frowned and reached up towards Merlin again.

“He’s thirsty. Elyan, get your waterskin,” he said over his shoulder, his eyes not leaving Merlin.

“Get _yours_ ,” the young dark man’s frown deepened and he took a step back warily.

“Mine has ale in it.”

The prince glared at him.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Gwaine,” the tall blond said, he looked uneasy, almost guilty as he avoided looking directly at Merlin.

“Why?” the other demanded.

“Because he’s a bloody sorcerer, that’s why!” the prince exploded, grabbing a handful of the longhaired man’s chainmail. He pulled him away from the cage then gave him a solid shove in the chest that sent the shorter man stumbling. “Get back to the bloody field. Percival.” He clicked his fingers at the giant of a man, who took the longhaired man around the chest and half dragged half carried him away across the field.

“Elyan, go,” the tall blond gave the dark skinned man a light push. He ran off after the other two. “What about Lancelot?”

“Leave him to brood,” the prince said. “Thank you, Leon.” The tall man bowed his head and turned towards the field as well.

The prince stared up at Merlin for a second, conflict warring across his face, before he frowned and turned to go.

“Please…” Merlin managed to gasp out.

The prince froze, his shoulders tense. He didn’t turn around but he sighed and dropped his head into his hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered then ran to the others.

Merlin slumped back against the side of his cage, weak sobs shaking his chest. For the briefest moment he had let himself hope. He scrubbed at the tears on his face, the chains around his wrists digging into his skin at the movement.

Soon the hunter would be back, with an execution warrant from the king no doubt. And that would be it.

“Here,” said a quiet voice behind him. He jumped, scuffling around on the dirty cage floor to see kind dark eyes watching him steadily.

It was the man who had stormed away when the prince called Merlin evil. He was holding a waterskin up, squeezing it through the bars near Merlin’s hand.

Merlin took it gratefully and tipped it to his lips. It was icy cold, like the weather around them, but it soothed his lips and tongue. It tickled as he swallowed and he coughed and spluttered, some of the water trickling down his chin.

“Easy,” the man said as Merlin wiped his chin with the back of his hand. He took a smaller sip.

“Thank- thank you,” he rasped, trying to smile.

“My name is Lancelot.” He smiled back.

“Merlin.”

Lancelot glanced over Merlin’s shoulder, over to where the prince and his men had gone back to hitting each other with swords. The sound of the clashing metal was echoing in Merlin’s head, making the muscles all down his back tense.

“Do you deny that you’re a sorcerer?” Lancelot asked quietly.

Merlin gulped and looked away from his questioning eyes. “No. I have magic, I was born with it.” Another tear slipped down his cheek, teetering on the edge of his jaw. He swiped it away. “But I would _never_ use it for evil.”

Lancelot sighed. “I believe you.”

Merlin’s head shot up, sending a jolt of pain down his neck that he ignored. He stared at Lancelot. There was no malice in his eyes, he truly meant what he said.

“I’ll get you out of there,” he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love any and all reviews!


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